Excuse Me, Who Are You?
by William Rayne
Summary: AU – written in the second person tense: Clark has lost his memory, can his friends help him to remember who he is and more importantly, can his folks help me remember what he is?
1. Who am I?

TITLE: Excuse me…who are you?

AUTHOR: William Rayne

EMAIL: knytmareyahoo.com

RATING: PG-13

SUMMARY: Clark has lost his memory, can his friends help him to remember who he is and more importantly, can his folks help me remember what he is? AU – written in the second person tense

SPOILERS: Memoria

DISTRIBUTION: FanFiction.net, email me

DISCLAIMER someone else owns 'em, I'm just taking them out to play. Don't sue me, I have no money

FEEDBACK: Desired like none other.

A/N: I know, I start a lot of fics but have yet to finish more than 1. I'm just getting out some of the ideas while they're there. Reviews are a slight motivation but not much, it's more what stories call to me to be written. I'll try to finish some as soon as I can. In the meantime, I'd really appreciate any kind of feedback/reviews.

As always: bold italics for stressed, italics for thoughts or voice-over, and underlines for sarcasm or disgust. 

Oh yeah, I'm horrible with tenses, so please forgive me, I'll try to clean and tighten that up some in the future.

183

Excuse Me…Who Are You?

Prologue

The men out in the hall argue as you lay in the hospital bed. The kind, tearful lady beside you reaches out to hold your hand. You aren't sure whether it's for her comfort or yours, but oddly, it's reassuring none-the-less. They say your name is Clark Kent and you have amnesia.

When asked about the last thing you remember, you reply, "I remember the bald man pulling me out of…out of…" Your voice trails off and they look at you with the worry naked on their features.

The man who says he's your father gives the bald man _Lex_ the evil eye. "Lex," you blurt out and once again, all eyes are on you. _Why is that also familiar?_ You push away the thought and state simply to the bald man, "Your name is Lex, right?"

"Yes. Yes, Clark, it is," Lex replies excitedly and the man who is your father puts aside his qualms with hope in his eyes.

You smile towards the trio and state, "I don't know why I remember that, but I do. Perhaps over time, more will come to me."

The other man, your father, looks apprehensively at the hospital bed and turns to Lex, "I appreciate the discretion but I'd like to take my son home now, if it's all the same to you."

"Mr. Kent, I only did this because it was the last request Clark made before he passed out. However, in lieu of the events, I think it would be best if we got Clark to a doctor."

This time the two argue in front of you instead of the hallway. You wonder why they bothered with the pretense in the first place. You also wonder why your father doesn't want you to go to the hospital. That would seem like the most logical thing to do.

You look towards the kind lady once more. "You're frightened," you whisper.

"Yes. Yes, I am. I'll explain when we get home," she says in the barest whisper and you're surprised that you were able to catch it. It is almost as if that very statement was a signal to her husband as he helps you out of the bed and onto your feet. You don't resist. After all, father knows best.

Lex looks angry at your departure and all you can do is offer an apologetic half-smile. As you take in your surroundings, you realize that you're in Lex's home. Your father wraps and arm around you, "It'll be alright, son. We'll find a way to get your memory back. As much as I hate to say it, Thank God for Lex's intervention in that."

Puzzled, you open the door and enter the truck, not noticing the sighs from your parents. On the way back, you come to a realization. Turning towards your father, you ask, "Lex is evil?"

Your father chuckles, "That's a mild way of putting it."

"Then why did he save me?"

Your father ponders the answer and states carefully, "I'm afraid that when it comes to you, Clark, things become complicated."

"How so?" you ask.

"Let's work on some of the little things before we cross that bridge," your father says grimly.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

The next day is no different. You're frustrated, all your parents would say about the issue with Lex is that you're special and Lex isn't to be trusted. _Am I gay?_ You think of Lex as sexually as possible and almost retch. _Nope, not gay.__ So what's so complicated? Why use the term special?_ You see a tennis ball on the floor of your room and kick it towards the wall in frustration. It doesn't bounce back. Instead it goes through the wall. _Tennis balls aren't supposed to do that, are they? Good thing the __Kents__ went into town._ You find a poster to move over the hole. _Mom and Dad, I need to practice that until it feels natural._

You spend the rest of the time trying to figure out who Clark Kent is. The Kents, er Mom and Dad, left you to your room in hopes that something would trigger your memory but it didn't work. They had to go into town for…for… _Stupid memory work._ Nothing in this room seems familiar, it's almost as if you spend time to just sleep in it. _Do I sneak out at night and party?_ You wonder as you go through the closet. _What's with the plaid and primary colors? We can scratch out partying._

Turning towards the mirror as you await the arrival of your parents, you look at the reflection and ask wryly, "Excuse me…who are you?" _Who is __Clark__Kent__?_


	2. Lessons

TITLE: Excuse me…who are you?

AUTHOR: William Rayne

 RATING: PG-13

SPOILERS: Memoria

DISTRIBUTION: FanFiction.net, email me

DISCLAIMER someone else owns 'em, I'm just taking them out to play. Don't sue me, I have no money

FEEDBACK: Desired like none other.

A/N: Yeah, I haven't posted on my other stories. So many ideas, so little time plus block on some and on dial-up now. %sad face% Thinking fanfiction still may hate my asterisks so using % for now. Have outlines done for other stories and will write when I can. For now, enjoy.

As always: bold italics for stressed, italics for thoughts or voice-over, and underlines for sarcasm or disgust. 

110

Excuse Me…Who Are You?

Chapter 1

You walk through the halls and wonder what the fuss is about. Looking at the sea of people, you wonder who your friends are as well as enemies. _Do I even have either?_ They all look at you with sympathy and a part of you says you should feel something, yet you remain apathetic.

It took a few days, but your Mom convinced Jonathan that you might get better if you went back to school, back to things more familiar and normal. It feels natural to call her 'Mom' now but the man who you should call 'Dad'…you feel no bond. Perhaps it's because you know he's keeping things from you and somewhere deep inside you is a voice that detests secrets. _I wonder why I hate secrets. Was I betrayed? _You have listened to them argue, you know the man is afraid for and perhaps of you. You know he wants to protect you from a lot of things and this time, he's trying to protect you from yourself. They never say anything aloud, but you know that there is some burden they are keeping from you.

They speak about you and your condition in hushed tones yet you can still hear them. You know that isn't natural, yet you have since given up on the how's and why's of it all and just accept that you it is something you can do. _Is this part of the accident that made me forget everything? Or maybe the voices are just in my head. Better to not mention it, I don't need to be committed…things are bad enough as is._ Though they haven't indicated anything verbally, their actions and expressions betray them. They think your current condition has effectively rendered you with the mentality of a child. You don't blame them for that. After all, your reaction to the life you had led and all things that encompass that is very much akin to that of a child. So it is no small wonder, considering observations based on that, they have come to that conclusion. Let them think you are functioning less than you are. It gives you more time to figure out what's going on. _Or perhaps I was 'slow' before all this. Maybe that's what they mean when they say I'm special. At least I managed to ditch that Pete kid that's been shadowing me all morning. I know he's supposed to be my best friend and all but the way he looks at me…_

Your thoughts are interrupted by a cute, hyper blond. _Well, hello nurse. Daddy could use a sponge bath._ She calls you by name and asks how you are. Her manner is very familiar. _Maybe we're already fooling around._ You interrupt her tirade of questions, "Excuse me, who are you?"

She frowns and apologizes. Sometimes she gets ahead of herself, she says as well as something about being a reporter. The latter sounding incredibly boring to you, yet you put on a smile and act like it's fascinating. _The things a guy must do to scam some._ Somewhere in her babble, you find out her name is Chloe and then you go back to your daydreams. She pours forth her sympathies about your condition as you imagine her naked and are surprised by how vivid your imagination can be. The bell for class rings and you wonder, as she walks away, why you would imagine a birthmark on her cheek.

You go to your Math class and a brunette waves you to a seat she has apparently saved for you. _Yeah, baby, you know you want this._ The class is simple for you. This allows you the opportunity to steal glances at the girl. She is amazingly beautiful, the type of girl you can tell would be a shoe-in for any kind of beauty contest. _Wouldn't be surprised if she was Homecoming or Prom queen.__ Of course, that type of girl probably has some jock of a boyfriend and would never have anything to do with a guy like me. She probably feels sorry for me, wonder if I can work that to my advantage. Even if she has a boy, she isn't married and therefore, free game. _Class drags on and you notice her noticing you noticing her. Luckily, she just smiles a sweet smile that seems to suggest that she was noticing you as well.

Class ends and you chat her up, spitting as much game as you can. Much to your dismay, she says you two already know each other. You recover from the faux pas, "No, that can't be. You must be mistaken." She looks at you quizzically and you pour on some charm and state solemnly, "I don't think there's anything in this world that could make me forget a girl as beautiful as you, Lana."


	3. Intrigue

TITLE: Excuse me…who are you?

AUTHOR: William Rayne

 RATING: PG-13

SPOILERS: Memoria

DISTRIBUTION: FanFiction.net, email me

DISCLAIMER someone else owns 'em, I'm just taking them out to play. Don't sue me, I have no money

FEEDBACK: Desired like none other.

A/N: Yeah, I haven't posted on my other stories. So many ideas, so little time plus block on some and on dial-up now. %sad face% Thinking fanfiction still may hate my asterisks so using % for now. Have outlines done for other stories and will write when I can. For now, enjoy.

As always: bold italics for stressed, italics for thoughts or voice-over, and underlines for sarcasm or disgust. 

110

Excuse Me…Who Are You?

Chapter 2

You thought what you said was smooth, but the sadness in Lana's eyes tells you otherwise. You start to apologize. She waves you off, brushing away some stray tears, saying, "No, no. You don't need to—I mean, it's not like. It just hit me that you really don't remember. Do you?"

It hits you like bullet, she has a guy or had a guy. Either way, you're sure that guy was you. You stutter a response and she giggles nervously, "No, it's alright. It's wrong for me to force you to remember. It's cruel."

She starts to walk away and you catch her arm. She turns to you, with surprise and hope in her eyes. You say, "No. I want to remember. I'm ashamed that I could even forget. Can you help me to remember? Please?"

She hesitates on her answer and you flash her an electric half-smile with your eyes being as puppy-dog as you can make them. It works and she agrees. The bell rings and as she leaves, she tells you to meet her at the Talon after school.

You smile and check your schedule. _Free period, what ever will I do?_ You smile and walk towards the Torch. Research sounds like a very appealing idea to you. You walk into the office and are surprised by the fact that you aren't surprised to find Chloe there. She, however, looks surprised to see you and when you ask why, she replies, "Well, with your condition and all. I figured you would do something else."

"Old habits die hard?" you offer.

She laughs and says, "I guess so. So I'm not sure what you want to work on. I have the article on Lionel's renewed interest in the Kawatche Caves or do you want to cover the training for our softball team?"

Chloe is facing away from you as she goes through a stack of items that seem to be Torch related. When she turns back around, the confusion on your face is apparent. She asks about it and you tell her you didn't think you were the reporter type.

"If you didn't think you were into that sort of thing. Why be here?" She says.

"I don't know," You reply, "I thought maybe there'd be something here that would help jog my memory. You know, remember the old Clark Kent."

Chloe looks crestfallen until you add in, "Plus, I think that if the old Clark Kent is anything like me…he really wasn't here for the reporting. He was here to spend more time with you."

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

A couple hours later, you're in gym class. Chloe had helped you to rediscover yourself. You seem to have a habit of being at the right place at the wrong time. Or maybe it's wrong place at the right time. Either way, you always seem to be there to save the day. The selflessness surprises you, it doesn't make sense. It goes against all instincts of self-preservation. Perhaps there's more behind the stories, you'll have to ask your parents later on. Or maybe it's something you could bring up with Lana when you see her this afternoon.

Your thoughts are interrupted as you notice that Pete kid looking at you strangely. When the coach had told you that you could sit gym out the rest of the semester due to your condition, you had protested. Pete hadn't said it aloud, but his mechanizations had indicated that he thought it best that you sit out. It's only in reading these subtle clues that you two are friends. How else would you be able to know someone so well?

You go through all of these thoughts as you are put through the paces in gym class. Class comes towards the end and the coach pulls you over to tell you that he's impressed. When you ask why, he says something about the ease in which you're doing things and that this is the best he's seen you ever do but you don't catch it all as you glance over to see Pete looking at you like a hawk. He looks away but you can't shake the feeling like he's evaluating you for some reason.

The last event in gym is a race. One of the kids, a football player looking one makes a comment towards you. The comment wasn't particularly intelligent or seemed appropriate to you because you don't remember your past performance in class but it makes the other kids laugh. Pete tells you to shrug it off, that the kid doesn't know what he's saying.

You ready for the whistle and when it sounds, you race. You're not racing for the sake of speed or ego. You're racing to prove to yourself you can, that the kid's comment doesn't matter. You see him pull ahead to the lead and you put more effort in. It's funny but you feel like you're holding back. You're in almost last place, perhaps you are. Something inside of you seems to click and you find yourself at the finish line, a full three seconds ahead of the leader. Everyone, including you, is surprised. If you weren't so preoccupied with what just happened, you would've noticed that Pete has suddenly become worried.


End file.
